


The Scars that Mark Our Story (and the words that write them)

by raredelightfulloveoak (XerxesBreak)



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Happy Quinn orgin story time!, I didn't really explore much, Not enough imagination lol, its about time I wrote one though, its all really vague though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5574862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XerxesBreak/pseuds/raredelightfulloveoak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a brief run through and one shots of Happy's life before Scorpion</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scars that Mark Our Story (and the words that write them)

  _1989_

Happy had always thought of it as a game. He would buy something, she would fix it only for him to disassemble it, then she would put it back together, make it new, make it better. That was how games worked...right? Except this morning was different. This morning, the table was empty, cleared off, wiped clean as if proving a point. Completely void of anything, game over. Her dollhouse was nowhere to be seen, even her tools were gone. The tiny wrenches, the miniature blowtorch he had made for her a few months back. All of it. And suddenly it didn't feel like a game anymore. "It's for your safety," he said, with false calmness, "I don't want you to get hurt." But there was no forgiveness in this game, everything was to cleaned out, to careful. And she felt betrayed by the hug he tried to give her. She went to bed different that evening, and he slept with his bottle for the night.

And the next night,

and the next night,

and the nights after that.

But that was nothing new. It was nothing she wasn't use to.

He would always come back eventually, with a new gift at his fingertips. An old beat up remote control car, some new tools...a neglected dollhouse. But there was fear deep inside, that this time it would be different. He just waned her "to be safe" after all. That fact still close to her heart, she still let herself get the tiniest bit excited when he came up to her one morning. He grabbed her coat and handed it to her. Happy briefly noted somewhere deep inside her mind, the way his fingers flinched back when they came into contact with hers. He smiled at her, while she only allowed herself to stare blankly back at him, into his distant sad eyes. Why smile when you didn't feel it. Why trick hearts like that? He brushed her tangled hair out of her face as she climbed up onto her seat. At least his hands were warm. She secretly let herself become outwardly excited, allowing a few energetic bounces on the seat, her feet dangling over the air between her legs and the car floor.

They turned down a road unfamiliar to her and she could feel something was off. So, she focused on the truck. The way it shook and vibrated under her, the way it moved, it's parts invisible but still there. This relaxed her until they pulled up to a building and the truck's life dwindled to a stop. Then they were walking and she found herself sitting on a stiff wooden bench.  Her father leaned down, brushing her messy curls out of her face again, and his fingers were shaky across her brow. At least they were still warm she thought, and Happy focused on that. He was talking to a woman at a counter now, their words hushed and rapid. She felt his hand on her shoulder and was aware at how soft and wary it was. It was so different from his strong warm grip, his clumsy caress, and it surprised her. Then he was leading her to the woman and all Happy could think were blank empty thoughts, completely at lost to what was going on. She could only focus enough to hear her father let out a broken "find her a good home," and then he was gone. There was just empty air were he should have been, and all Happy could do was wonder as the woman led her through empty halls, crowded ones, and all that was in between. When the woman finally dropped her arm, all Happy could think to say was, "Do I get my house now?" She was talking about her dollhouse, something the woman clearly missed, for she just smiled strangely and left with a sorry "someday." And a door clicked shut, leaving her all alone, to confused to even cry. So Happy sat on the floor, counting, waiting for him to walk back into the room.

                                                                               It only took her until 3,600 to realize he wasn't going to.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to make this a one-shot and leave it at that, but it became so long that I decided to put it up and post individual chapters. Please enjoy and some feedback would be much appreciated since I don't really write a lot.


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